The Tourist and the Artist
by Evil Kitten1
Summary: Eirík is a freelance artist who makes his living from drawing portraits of tourists who visit his home city. One day, he meets a dorky Dane by chance and is asked to do what he doesn't do; sketch a full-body portrait! But tempted by the price, Eirík determinedly sets out to create a masterpiece befitting the silly (and lovable) visitor.


A/N: Denmark = Matthias, Iceland = Eirík, Norway = Sigurd.

And please for the love of god don't think of condoms when you see the word 'rubber' because it's what us Brits call erasers. Also, this is rated M because it pretty much borders on the 'mature' side of things.

* * *

Eirík is a freelance artist who makes his living from drawing portraits of tourists who visit his home city. One day, he meets a dorky Dane by chance and is asked to do what he doesn't do; sketch a full-body portrait! But tempted by the price, Eirík determinedly sets out to create a masterpiece befitting the silly (and lovable) visitor.

* * *

Eirík bit the end of his pencil while sitting at his work station; a stool and easel resting on a 2x2 meter mat. The wheelie-suitcase full of pencils and rubbers sat beside him as he waited for a tourist to come up to him to ask for a portrait to be made.

'This is worrying,' he thought, staring at the blank A4 paper in front of him. 'I need to do 12 portraits to pay for next week's rent… I can't just drive up prices without losing out to that annoying French artist in the other side of the city either, maybe I really should just work at my bro's café…'

His job is being a freelance artist and he lives in a tiny apartment while his brother is the owner of a popular tourist café. Sigurd offered him a job when he left school, but he declined and said that he wanted more freedom over what he wants to do now that he's out of education. In the city, it's extremely easy to find tourists willing to beg for him to draw them portraits of, but recently there's been a lack of tourists going through his usual area as if they're being diverted elsewhere.

'It must be that stupid Frenchman…' His lips pursed in worry. 'I don't like the idea of waiting people hand and foot all the time. I can't wander around the city and take in the sights from the café, it's too… restricting.'

All Eirík wants to do is his own thing, but reality and misfortune just has to follow him occasionally.

"Excuse me?"

Eirík was so distracted by his thoughts that his head jerked up. In front of him stood a very tall blonde man wearing thick glasses with freckles dotting his cheeks. His most unusual feature is his hair sticking up like he gelled it back with one sweep of his hand one day and decided it's the greatest style since seeded bread. The visitor smiled sheepishly.

"Are you an artist?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Eirík coughed to clear his throat. His interest spiked at the appearance of the man; camera hanging from a loop around his neck, summer shorts, a colourful t-shirt, a well-worn backpack – in his experience, this man is definitely a tourist. Tourists = money. "Fancy a portrait? It'll take me an hour to do."

"Yes, please!" the man answered excitedly and took a breath. "Oh, but can you do one teensy-request for me?"

"Okay…?" Eirík blinked. "If it's reasonable, then yes. I'm a busy man with not enough time."

The tourist chuckled. "You don't look a day over 16 to call yourself a man!"

Eirík's patience began to run thin. "What is your request?" he asked, trying not to grit his teeth. The tourist gave him a goofy smile.

"Do you do full-body portraits?"

"No," Eirík shook his head and the other male groaned.

"Pleeeease~? Pretty please?" he begged and his hands clapped together. "You name the price! I just REALLY want one to bring back home!"

The artist glanced around the street to find an excuse. There're no tourists around – damn. He massaged his own neck with his hand to relieve his irritation.

"Alright, but if you REALLY want me to do one, then it'll have to be pretty expensive," he said and the visitor nodded vigorously like a child, "how about we make it… £130?"

Their mouth dropped.

"That's too much!" he exclaimed in horror and Eirík shrugged.

"That is one week's worth of pay for me on this business, I earn even less than the guys working at my brother's café!" The tourist squinted through his glassed and looked at Eirík's face carefully, making him frown. "What?"

"You kinda look like that one hottie working in Café Breeze…" he muttered and snapped his fingers, eyes shining. "That's it! I know your brother! I ate at his café earlier and we were talking about our families and stuff and then he showed me a picture of you and him!" Eirík's jaw dropped.

"He did what?!" he snapped, going bright red. "He shouldn't be showing strangers my picture without asking!"

"Well he did anyway," he shrugged before grinning. "My name is Matthias, by the way! I came here all the way from Europe!"

Eirík resisted the urge to facepalm. "But we ARE in Europe!"

Matthias laughed. "That's a shame! We should be flirting at a beachside café in Copenhagen, not arguing over petty prices!"

The younger male glared at him, gripping his sharp pencil like it's the sharpest knife in the world. "I work hard to be where I am and where I WANT to be – don't make me regret dropping plans for art school just so I can argue with idiots like you and try to make a living!"

The smile turned into a challenging smirk. All of a sudden he looks a lot less like a dork and more like a wolf in lamb's clothing. "So you must be pretty good at your work, huh? Maybe not good enough to give a reasonable price."

"Yes," Eirík answered simply, not taking his eyes off the tourist's for one moment. A challenging feeling burned in his heart. "I charge prices the way I do because in case you haven't noticed, the cost of living in this country is fucking insane so even renting a tiny apartment is a nightmare and any tips I get I use to buy food and pay for electricity. When I have a bad work week I clean at my brother's café or sell paintings online using his scanner and computer for free from the goodness of his heart. In case you haven't noticed from being there, the customers can be crappy if you don't give them their gluten-free cakes or whatever-the-fuck-doesn't-kill-them so I try not to resort to working at his café. Understand my problem?"

"I guess so…" Matthias said, but still smiled at him. "I was just thinking, actually…"

"That must be new," Eirík rolled his eyes.

"I'm not done," he raised a finger with a laugh, "how about I pay you £500?"

Eirík did a double take, almost dropping his pencil. "You what?"

"You heard me," Mathias nodded, "I'll give ya £500 if you let me camp out at your place for the night as well as you doing me a full-body sketch."

Eirík glanced at his paper on the easel. Let a stranger into his place? His sanctuary? All for the sake of earning a fuckload of money? He doesn't even look like someone who carries a lot of money around with him…

"Okay," he said simply and Matthias looked at him in confusion.

"Really?"

"Yes, now let's go already," Eirík snapped impatiently and hopped off his stool, starting to pack his things away. "Only if you're not a murderer, a thief or a sex pest, agreed?" Matthias snorted.

"Deal, though you are kinda cute—"

Eirík glanced at him suddenly, shooting him a burning glare that could frighten the hungriest wolf. The tourist gulped and nodded quickly.

"Sorry, sorry! I won't say stuff like that either, I promise!"

* * *

They walked to the same street where Café Breeze is located, but they did not go to it as Eirík lead Matthias into a flat next door. The outside walls are painted peach, but the inside walls are a drab grey as they went to the elevator and Eirík sent them to a floor halfway up the building. They got out and he entered a key into a door at the end of the corridor, letting him and Matthias inside. Drawings and art equipment lay scattered around the small room as their owner stepped over them casually and began to clear some canvases off the sofa to make room for him to set up the easel again.

"So, uh… nice place," Matthias complimented hesitantly, hoping that he doesn't step on any paintbrushes. His eyes scanned the walls which were covered in various style of drawings and paintings and mixes of such, many being colourful while some are only done in many shades of particular colours.

"Thanks," Eirík said, not paying much attention and he stood up, looking around the room before seizing a different chair from his desk – Matthias didn't even notice it was a desk until then – and turned to his subject. "Sit on the sofa or pose in the comfiest position. I want to get this as right as possible."

"You and me both…" Matthias muttered, sitting back on the two-seater sofa and crossed his leg.

"Wait, you might get pins and needles if you stick like that for ages…" the other male pointed out slowly. Matthias shrugged and sat back casually with his elbows on the back of the sofa and his feet on the floor with his legs apart. Eirík tried not to complain at his inviting position.

"Will you let me know when you're doing my face?" Matthias suddenly asks.

"How about I do that first?"

"Sure."

Eirík took a deep breath. With the freshly-sharpened 2B pencil in his hand and a rubber resting on his easel with an A3 paper clipped to it, he spent a second to adjust his sitting position on the chair. A stool is more suited for shorter drawing sessions, but this chair will be friendlier for his back.

"Ready?"

Matthias smiled a new smile that made his heart skip a beat. "Ready."

For the next hour, Eirík focused on carefully drawing Matthias's long face. Swift dots were added to remind him where the man's freckles are and picked up a 6B pencil to make them slightly bigger before gently nudging them with his pinky finger and wiped it clean on his apron. He started out the way he usually does with his clients, but as soon as he got to the hem of his shirt's neckline, his mind began to blank out and he paused a few times to study the man's body.

"What's wrong?" Matthias asked and quickly returned his face to the way it was before speaking; a simple smile.

"Nothing…" Eirík muttered and rubbed out a mistake he made. "You can talk now, I finished your face. It's not HUGELY detailed like a camera, but the likeness is still there…"

"Chill, I'm sure it'll be amazing anyway," Matthias laughed. "Though my nuts are itching…"

The artist ignored him as he drew a quick outline of his body, not including his clothes yet. When he has done that, quick flicks of his pencil revealed the outlines of his outfit. His mind tuned out outside noises from the bustling city outside his window, sinking himself into the zone, the zone that he falls into when he is at his most comfortable state while drawing…

Matthias's clothes soon formed properly and Eirík added the splashing details on the man's shirt; wrinkles in clothing appeared as well as the occasional food stain and the tent in his shorts—

Eirík froze, realising what he just drew and peeked over the top of his easel to see Matthias smiling at him innocently.

"Something wrong?"

"N-nothing…" Eirík uttered and grabbed the rubber to erase the boner he accidentally copied from the subject.

"You said that last time," Matthias mentioned. "What body part can I move?"

"None, yet," the younger male answered and the tourist sighed softly.

"How long has it been?"

"Only…" Eirík glanced at the clock on the wall, bewildering himself at his work speed. "One hour and a half."

Matthias whistled. "You're pretty fast. Your hands are so nimble, they definitely belong to an artist like you."

"Uh… Thanks…" Eirík looked at him, smiling slightly. He glanced back to his drawing and carried on drawing, adding the muscly contours on his legs. "Your build looks nifty. Are you a runner?"

"No, but I am physically fit," Matthias said, "I guess I just like travelling a lot, so that must be why my body's like this."

"Mmhm," Eirík hummed, feeling relieved that Matthias's boner seem to have disappeared. (He didn't bother looking to make sure without being suspected of looking.)

Time passed and he finished doing Matthias's full-body portrait. When he added the last bits of detail, he sighed heavily and almost dropped out of his chair as he stood up, slamming his pencil into the tin victoriously and snatched the drawing off the board.

"It's done."

Matthias gasped and shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over from the lack of activity as he ran over to look at the drawing, but Eirík held it behind him out of his sight.

"Now, I'll ask this first, do you or do you not have the money on you right now, because if you say no then I'll have to kick you out or take whatever money you have to make up for wasting my time. Sigurd is next door to this building, and I can call him to kick your arse before you could even make it to the floor below this one, so if you double-cross me, then I'll make your trip to this city a living nightmare."

Matthias raised his hands up innocently. "I got some cash in my bag, just lemme grab it."

"Okay," Eirík nodded and watched the taller tourist reach down to the floor and grab his backpack, opening it and tugging out a wallet. He opened it and pulled out a handful of twenty pound notes, handing them over to Eirík who quickly counted them and checked them thoroughly to check if they're forgeries or not. When the queen's head shone on the papers thanks to the sunlight from the window, he nodded and put the money aside. "Here's your drawing, as promised."

He took a breath and handed it to the excited tourist as he took it into his hands and his smile disappeared. Eirík watched his reaction with a hint of worry, mentally berating himself for caring about what he thinks.

"Is it good…?" His worry grew. If it's bad, he'll have to refund the money.

"No," Matthias whispered and his heart dropped, but it inflated when a delighted smile appeared on the tourist's expression. "It's perfect. I've never seen anything like this before. Thank you so much."

Relieved, Eirík's lips curved and they looked at each other.

"So, uh… You wanna sleep on the sofa tonight?" he asked hesitantly and Matthias nodded, suddenly quiet.

"S-sure, it's the right size for me."

* * *

Later that evening, Matthias watched Eirík clean his flat, from gathering all the papers and scraps on the floor and into folders for organisation to the scattered paintbrushes hiding behind the minimal number of furniture. He swept up pencil shavings and bits from the rubbers as well as wiping off dried paint from his desk. They chatted for a while as Eirík cleaned and when he done, it was dark outside.

"Shit, I didn't notice the time," Eirík swore and threw the last cleaning wipe into the bin, "I'll grab you a spare blanket and pillow." He decided to trust Matthias enough to keep him in his flat. "Just don't expect them to be big enough to go over your feet, you're pretty tall."

Matthias shrugged and lay back on the sofa, examining his sketch and thinking of how much he loved the rapid, rough strokes. Eirík threw a blanket over his body without covering the paper and Matthias lifted his head until he felt the pillow behind him and rested against it, sighing happily.

"Thanks, Eirík," he thanked him, "I mean it though, this drawing's so amazing! I gotta get a frame for it!"

Eirík's cheeks flushed. No tourist has ever complimented his works with such praise. "I don't think it's that good, to be honest… I rushed it."

"Well I love it," Matthias laughed and kissed the corner to avoid getting pencil on his lips. The artist inhaled slowly – for some odd reason, it felt like he was being kissed and not the drawing.

"The bathroom is at that door over there, and my room is over there so if you need me for anything, just knock and I'll come over."

"Oh, Eirík?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Matthias suddenly asked and sat up, looking at him seriously. The question was so sudden that the other male almost squeaked.

"No!" he said quickly, "I—I just don't have the time to date someone."

"You do," Matthias said lazily, flopping back, "you just don't seem the kind of guy that does relationship-type stuff like kissing or having sex every few minutes like my friends do. You're different."

Eirík huffed, trying to look annoyed. "Of course I'm different – everybody's different. If your friends all seem to act the same, then maybe they just care too much about what other people are doing that's similar to them."

Matthias chuckled. "I think that's why I really like you – you don't give a damn."

"I do give a damn," the artist said indignantly, "I just don't give a damn enough."

A silence ensued and their eyes met before their lips lifted into grins and they laughed.

* * *

Later that night, Eirík woke up when someone knocked at his door. Sleepily, he crawled out of bed and opened the door to see Matthias without his shirt on.

"What's up?" he yawned and the other male silently reached out to rest his hand on his shoulder. Confusion hazed the artist's mind. "What's wrong? Matthias?"

"Eirík…" the tourist started hesitantly. It's too dark. There are no stars outside and it's not the time of the month for the moon to come out, so he could only rely on the crappy lightbulb from Eirík's bedside lamp to dimly light up the room. "It's pretty cold on the sofa; could I join you?"

To his surprise, Eirík just grunted a "yes" and stepped back to go into bed again, but scooted over to let the taller male join him. The bed creaked at the added weight and Matthias placed the spare pillow down so that he isn't hogging Eirík's only pillow. He feels warm immediately.

"Thanks, pal," he laughed breathily, "I thought I was going to freeze—"

"If you want to kiss me, then just do it." Eirík's not tired enough to go back to sleep, but he's curious at what the dorky stranger wants with him. The central heating is on in the flat, so there's no way that he'd be cold.

Dark blue eyes widened and Matthia's mouth opened to protest. "N-no, it's not like that…" But his burning cheeks gave him away. Eirík shuffled his body closer to him, staring at him straight in the eyes while their noses almost touched.

"I'll let you stay another night if you like."

"Wait, so if I want to stay again, I just have to kiss you?"

"Yes. Besides, you're kinda cool."

Taking a breath to calm himself, Matthias shyly tilted his head and felt the skin of his lips brush ever-so-slightly against the artist's as his eyes closed. A hand rested on his neck, pulling him in more to slightly deepen the kiss and his arm wound around Eirík. He parted to look at the other male questioningly.

"Okay, I'm confused," he blurted, "you were really wary about letting a stranger go into your home, and now you're kissing the aforementioned stranger into getting him to stay another night. You don't make sense."

Eirík smirked as he thought of something clever. "Artists don't make sense. Artists don't conform to any rules when it comes to creativity."

* * *

After their first kiss, they just went to sleep with those words lingering in the air. It plagued Matthias, kissing someone quite handsome and then going to sleep right after without doing anything else. He felt a strange obligation to please him now as he did generously allow him to stay for free (he counts the £500 as pay for the portrait, not extras for allowing him to stay a night) so that was why when he woke up at dawn and gently brushed his fingers against Eirík's hair, he decided to quietly get out of bed and find something to feed them both in the small kitchen corner, which was miraculously uncovered yesterday from the tall piles of boxes.

It's a pretty small kitchenette area with only a sink, a mini-fridge, a microwave and a cupboard full of shiny pots and pans that look like they've never been used.

"Oh boy, how does he live like this?" he uttered, scratching his messy hair and opened the mini-fridge. The power is off, but there are packets of food that don't need refrigerating like instant soup packets and other stuff. Bewildered, he checked the socket on the wall to see that the fridge isn't even connected to any power source because there aren't enough sockets. The microwave is connected, thankfully, but he still found Eirík's living conditions unbelievable. He stayed in crappy hotel rooms that have more functioning appliances than this place.

* * *

When Eirík woke up, his arm instinctively curled on the other side of the bed, but when he didn't feel the warmth of the Dane he sat up quickly and dread filled him.

'He might as well leave. I don't know what the fuck got over me, trying to take my mind off my ex…' he thought bitterly and got out of bed. He doesn't want to get out at all, he wants to shut himself in his little apartment and never allow strangers in again.

His stomach growled as a sweet smell permeated in the air. Curious, Eirík left his room and saw Matthias placing a couple of plates with his brother's famous breakfast sandwiches on the table. There's even a stalk of English Bluebells in a tiny vase that he uses for his still-life art.

"Matthias?" he gaped, staring at the bizarre scene. Matthias turned and gave him a bright smile.

"Eirík! I was just about to leave and wake you up!" he exclaimed excitedly, pulling out a chair that doesn't match the table. "Come on, sit and eat while the sandwich is still hot! I'm glad your bro was up as early as I was when I went down to the café!"

"I can't believe that you went to my brother for these!" he raised his voice, "what if he asked about us?!"

"He did already – oh, sit down." Eirík defiantly slumped in the chair and Matthias sat opposite him. "He asked if we were sleeping together, which I said 'yes' and I DID tell him that all we did was fall asleep and nothing else happened, and then he had this relieved look in his face like he approved for me to be your husband or something—"

"Oh my god, Matthias!" Eirík pressed his face into his hands. "He's not going to let me hear the end of this!"

"Why?" Matthias blinked, "we had a nice chat, and he even freshly prepared these when he had some on the shelf already." Eirík gave him a grim look.

"You weren't the first guy to get invited to my place," he spoke lowly, "I let in this tourist once, he was about my age, and we really hit it off. I painted him a picture of his face and afterwards, we kissed. Of course, that kind of thing led to other things, and as soon as I was prepared to enter a relationship with him, he left me a note ending it before he went back to his home country." He tried saying all this casually, but Matthias can sense the growing hostility and bitterness in his story. "So the reason why I didn't want to let you in was because I don't want that kind of stupid thing to happen again. You understand, right?"

"Oh…" he murmured, unsure of what to say, "that's rough… That never happened to me before, but I can only imagine what it's like."

"Betrayal?" Eirík mumbled and Matthias nodded.

"People backstabbed me all the time at school, but now that I'm having my gap year I'm going to do whatever I want until my backpacking holiday is over to help me forget about those times," he explained. "Forgetting won't get rid of the experience… but all I could do is move on and distract myself so that I'm not living in the past."

Eirík glanced around his apartment. It's cleaner than yesterday, but still messy in most places.

"Is that why you're always on the move?"

"Ja," Matthias took a small bite from his breakfast sandwich and smiled greatly. "Do you feel hungry? Go on, take a bite! These are really delicious!" The artist did as we was told and bit into his sandwich (it's actually more of a cheese toastie) and a nostalgic feeling swept over him. He held back a shaky sigh and ate more of the toastie until there's only half left. Matthias noticed his silence and glazed eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… Just not really," Eirík answered sadly, "listen, Matthias, I only let you in my bed and kissed you because I wanted to move on pretty quickly, but it felt like I was replacing my ex with you so I feel bad." Matthias shrugged.

"I'm not mad, I'm just glad you admitted it. Everybody else just lies to me."

"So—"

A knock interrupted them and Eirík almost jumped out of his skin. Who'd be up at this time in the morning? Oh wait.

"Please don't tell me…" Eirík muttered as he got off his chair and moved to open the door, seeing his older brother standing there with a knowing smirk. "Goddammit."

"Is that how you should greet your dear older brother?" Sigurd chuckled and swanned past him into the room, raising his eyebrow at Matthias who shyly waved at him. "Eirík, a little bird told me you have a boyfriend." Eirík choked on air.

"H-he is NOT my boyfriend!" he protest and his brother laughed.

"Oh, sure he is! Why wouldn't you want to date someone so cute?" Now it was Matthias's turn to stare at him in horror.

"I'm not cute, I'm sexy!"

Sigurd grinned. "You two are just perfect together."

"Sigurd, why are you here?" Eirík asked in exasperation.

"I've just come to see how my little brother is doing with his new boyfriend," he said innocently and picked up a spare stool, taking it to the table and sat down. "Besides, I think you're rather cute too," he smirked at Matthias with a flirty look and the tourist gulped, backing his seat a little.

"Uh, w-well thanks, but I'm not th-that interested in you…"

"'That' interested?" Sigurd repeated amusedly, "than you do have some interest in me?" Matthias's cheeks flared crimson.

"N-nuh-uh! Eirík's…" The atmosphere froze.

"Eirík is what?" Sigurd flicked his smile back at his brother, who was still standing by the front door while holding it open with a murderous expression.

"Okay, Sigurd, I think your workers want you back to man the ship now, so bye-bye and it's been nice seeing you," Eirík said in a sing-song tone of voice, but puffed his cheeks out when Sigurd carried on talking, taking his own breakfast muffin from his bag.

"No worries, Kiku is taking over for the morning, I want to spend time with my lovely brother and his dear boyfriend," Sigurd sniggered. "So how long are you planning to stay in the city?"

"Ah… well…" Matthias began hesitantly. Eirík watched him too in interest as he sat back down with them. "My original plan for to stay for a day, but I still haven't seen everything in this city so I'm staying for longer."

Eirík felt relieved, but then Sigurd spoke. "So where are you from? A sunny strong guy like you is probably from somewhere hot… Spain?"

Matthias laughed a little. "No, I'm from Denmark."

"Neat," Sigurd said before taking a bite of his breakfast. "So, what are your hobbies?"

Eirík watched them silently, wondering what is going on as he ate his sandwich. The way they interacted and laughed together, it's almost as if they're flirting with each other. His eye twitched. Matthias is talking far more around Sigurd than he did around Eirík, they almost seem to enjoy each other's company too much…

"Hey, Sigurd," Eirík suddenly interrupted. "May I talk to you in the kitchen for a bit?"

"Sure," Sigurd smirked and they stood up together. Matthias watched them and adjusted his glasses before finishing off his sandwich. The brothers stood in the kitchenette, with Eirík talking in a low voice.

"Why are you flirting with him?"

Sigurd held back a snort. "To test him. He's almost similar to that last guy."

Eirík narrowed his eyes. "He's NOTHING like Ling. He smiles like an idiot all the time, he got me breakfast without asking for me to pay half the bill and he paid me far more money for the portrait to be drawn. Besides, we didn't have sex on the first night or anything!"

"As a sort-of parental unit, I'm supposed to applaud you for abstaining from sex with the first hot guy you meet in ages, but because I'm a sensitive liberal-hippy, I'm going to tell you off for letting your past put you off," Sigurd sighed and his brother did a double-take.

"What the fuck, Sigurd?" he hissed, trying not to be heard by Matthias, "I don't think he's even into that sort of thing! He did get a boner while I was sketching his portrait, but he didn't do anything to make me touch it so I assumed he wasn't interested in any physical interaction!"

Sigurd chuckled and shook his head. "Eirík. If you want sex with him, just do it."

"It's not that easy," Eirík mumbled, feeling a jab in his heart, "I don't think I can just date a different person and then move on. I still think about Ling, and it's going to be the same when Matthias eventually leaves." Sigurd's expression softened and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Eirík…" he whispered.

"Just forget about it," Eirík muttered gloomily, "Matthias is in the city for a holiday, I'm not going to make him stay."

At the table, Matthias strained his hearing to hear everything, but only heard snippets of the conversation with a heavy heart. He stood up and inhaled.

"Hey, Eirík," he called out and the brothers looked at him. "I only just arrived in the city, but can you be my tour guide?" Sigurd smiled and nudged his brother's elbow. Eirík could only nod, feeling his negativity vanish.

* * *

Eirík took Matthias for a walk around a large part of the city. They hopped on trams, tried out snacks at different stands, greeted other tourists and visited the museum all in one day until they returned to the apartment exhausted. Eirík's cheeks were flushed from the excitement of hanging out with Matthias all day.

"Wow, man, now THAT was amazing," Matthias laughed and they both kicked off their shoes, carelessly tossing their bags onto the floor before flopping against the sofa, leaning against each other. Eirík sighed happily.

"It's been pretty fun today," he admitted and Matthias chuckled.

"Heck yeah…" He rested his head on top of Eirík's, breathing lightly. "I wanna go around again."

"I see," the younger laughed softly, tilting his head up to look directly at Matthias, nose brushing against his lips and his cheeks heated. He didn't move away, however and felt those lips curve into a small smile before puckering slightly to kiss his nose. Eirík practically blushed from head to toe and he buried his face into Matthias's shirt.

"You're so cute!" he cooed and wrapped an arm around him.

"Shut up…" he heard Eirík grumble. Matthias lifted his hand to card it through his hair, enjoying the warmth of his silvery hair.

"Hey, Eirík?" he began hesitantly. Eirík didn't look up, so he carried on. "I never felt like this before towards anyone. I think I'm in love."

"We only just met. How can you be sure?" Matthias paused to think, still stroking his hair.

"I am 100% sure. I see lots of beautiful people during my travels, and I've been attracted to a few, but none looked my way the way you did. I thought you looked aesthetically pleasing, and when I got to know you better, you're just hella more attractive."

"Wow. You're such a romantic," Eirík rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Hey, can I kiss you?" Matthias suddenly asked goofily. The younger smiled in amusement and tilted his head up to kiss him first, but their lips lingered and gently worked against each other until Eirík decided to finish it and parted, enjoying the blush on the dork's face.

"That's payment for staying for another night," he murmured, looking into his eyes.

"R-really?" Matthias gasped and cheered, pulling Eirík into a tight hug. "Thank you!"

Eirík can't help but smile into his shirt, stroking his arm.

* * *

Evening drew close and brought a comfortable darkness to the city along with a dip in temperatures. Matthias shivered and Eirík sniggered.

"Feeling cold?"

"Aren't you?" the tourist glared.

"Nope. I can barely feel the cold."

"Show-off…" Matthias muttered and hugged Eirík's spare pillow while curling up on the sofa when an idea made him snap his fingers. He stood up and sneaked over to the host, hugging him from behind.

"Uh… hello?" Eirík greeted him unsurely, in the middle of filling a glass of water.

"Hey, beautiful…~" Matthias crooned. "Maybe we could sleep together again tonight?" He felt Eirík stiffen, but then he said;

"Yeah, why not?" he shrugged and Matthias let go, kissing his head.

"Wanna go now?" he whispered in his ear and Eirík's cheeks flushed. He nodded wordlessly and put the glass down, ignoring it in favour of turning around to face Matthias and stand on tiptoes to kiss him. The taller male guided the unskilled artist to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him using his foot and carried on kissing Eirík, moving his lips to his neck. The other shut his eyes, enjoying the tingling feeling stirring within him.

"Matthias…" he gasped and his hands sneaked up behind his shirt, lifting it slightly. Parting his lips from his skin, Matthias took his hand, leading him over to his bed and sat down with his hands on Eirík's hips, looking up at him with a small smile.

"How far do you wanna go?" he purred and Eirík shifted his body so that he's sitting on his lap.

"Not sure," Eirík muttered unsurely, "but I sorta want to do more than just kissing, y'know?"

"Ooh…" he chuckled and a shiver ran up his spine, "like making out… while lying in bed… without taking our clothes off?"

"I don't know, but the more you talk like that, the less likely it seems," Eirík grinned and Matthias leaned back in bed so that he's on top of him, arms spread out with a smirk. He looked at him in puzzlement. "What?" Matthias just laid there silently, trying not to crack a laugh.

"Do whatever you want with me, Eirík…~" he whispered and lifted his hips to rub his crotch against his partner's, making his gasp at the surge of heat in his nether regions.

"O-okay, maybe not THAT far—" he choked and rolled off him, but moved onto the spot besides him, facing him directly. "Like, we could just do it a step at a time, y-y'know?" At that, Matthias swung his body over Eirík's so that he is on top of him, hands on either side of his head with a playful smile.

"I'll lead, you follow my moves… But if at any point you feel uncomfortable, just lemme know," he stated before plunging down to kiss his lips softly. He felt the younger male part his lips to utter…

"Yes…"

* * *

After a long while, they slept together in bed with their clothes scattered about on the floor, exhausted from the slow, but explosive, action from earlier. Eirík isn't actually asleep, but in that dreamy state when he's not sure whether he's awake or simply feeling like he is in suspended animation for as long as he watches the face of his bed-partner sleeping peacefully. His pale hand touched the tourist's hair unsurely as if he's a figment of his imagination.

'This still doesn't feel real,' he thought, 'but I don't want to sleep in case it isn't.'

Matthias's arm was still wrapped around his waist, hand resting on the small of his back where love bites littered his skin among the scratches from when Eirík tried his hand at riding the other's cock (which went really well thanks to Matthias's strangely-informative guidance.) Eirík suppressed a breathy moan at the memory, trying not to wake the other male but then his dark blue eyes opened sleepily and a heartwarming smile made its way on his face.

"Hey…" he murmured quietly, gently pulling Eirík closer to kiss his nose. "Is it morning…? I don't want to wake up yet… I'm still having a great dream…"

Eirík's lips quirked. "What happened in your dream?"

Matthias laughed lowly. "A handsome artist offering me a place to stay after drawing me a portrait, and we ended up sleeping together. The artist was about to make a confession to me, but then I woke up before he could tell me." Eirík's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you think he would say?" he asked in a whisper. Matthias just gazed into his eyes with a mix of hesitation and… fear?

"I don't know," he muttered, "…In my dream, I was a tourist on holiday trying to get over my parents' deaths by travelling all over Europe, and I couldn't stay in the artist's home city for long, and I could only think of how worried I am to leave someone so amazing right after meeting them."

Eirík's heart dropped.

"I could only imagine how the artist felt," he gulped, "he'd probably be really heartbroken and lonely." For the next few seconds their gazes held and a sting of sadness swept through them both. Without speaking, Eirík hugged him and buried his face in his neck while Matthias tightened his hold around his waist, linking their legs to be as close as possible.

"By the way…" Matthias whispered. Eirík didn't move his head. "How about you come travelling with me?"

"What?" Eirík jerked his head up in shock, "really?"

"Yeah!" Matthias smiled brightly, "we could travel all over Europe together, and then when the tour is finished, we could… well… We could either live in this city or live at my place in Denmark! See, Copenhagen is just as beautiful as this place!"

"I… I don't know…" Eirík said, dazed at the sudden idea, "I mean, I have a passport and a decent amount of money, but doesn't that seem too soon? When are you leaving?"

"Well, considering that you gave me the best sex ever, which counts as a LOT of kisses, then we could leave in 8 or 10 days?" Matthias smiled innocently and brushed his nose against Eirík's, looking hopefully into his eyes.

"This is just so sudden…" he muttered, "Sigurd only just met you once too – I know he's okay with me sleeping around with different people, but moving out and suddenly going on holiday with them?"

Matthias shrugged. "If it's too much, then we can just exchange numbers and email addresses."

The prospects spun in his mind. Eirík hesitated, remembering the false promises that his ex made, but then remembered how well Matthias treated him compared to him. He practically treated Eirík like he's his Queen or something, even going as far as letting him walk through doors first while they were out and about in the city. He took selfies with him, kissed his cheek in public without batting an eye, treated him to dinner at midday and paid to hire a boat out at the lake for them to ride in alone in their own little world.

"No," Eirík shook his head and sighed, "it's just… I need to let Sigurd know first."

The tourist felt his heart leap in his mouth and his eyes widened. "Then that means-!"

"Yes," Eirík smiled slightly. His fingers linked with Matthias's. "I'll come with you."

"…You already did…~"

"Dammit, Matthias—"

* * *

(Bonus deleted scene…~)

Eirík lay curled on the bed with Matthias spooning him, feeling his warm breath tickle the back of his neck before kissing it, sucking lightly to tease his sensitive skin. Eirík moaned and shut his eyes, holding his hand tighter. "Matthias…"

"Yes?" Matthias breathed.

"If I let you do what you want with me tomorrow night…" he lowered his voice, whispering with what Matthias detected as hope lacing his words, "will you stay with me for another night?"

"Yes," he mumbled back and kissed his ear, "this is going to be a very long holiday."


End file.
